Page 38 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

“Who’s the big client?”

“A medium-sized public relations outfit in Los Angeles. They do a lot of marketing and advertising for a chain of restaurants, a designer who makes trendy sunglasses, and several high-end fashion stores. Their need for brochures, special packaging, and marketing collateral could keep me afloat for at least a year or more. I know it sounds dull. But it puts food on the table.”

She drove down Main Street, took a left onto Crescent, and pulled up in front of Vanilla Bean. “What do you think?”

“About the truck? It suits you. I didn’t think it would, but it does.” He waited until she cut the engine before sliding his hand across the seat into hers. “With so much on your plate, we’d better make sure you get eight hours tonight.”

“If I’m in bed by ten, that still gives me time to make dinner.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a homecooked meal. Aren’t you coming in?”

She rubbed her hand in a circle around the steering wheel. “This old thing has had more stuck to it than a little ink and sticky sugar. And if I’m cooking dinner, I need to buy a few essentials that haven’t expired in the last year. I need to clean out Gran’s pantry so there’s room to restock.”

“Does it feel weird getting rid of her stuff? Remember, I went through that with my uncle.”

“I wouldn’t use the word weird. It’s more like the official end of my childhood. There’s no way I can ever repay Gran for taking me in and giving me a home, especially if it turns out I wasn’t even a blood relative.”

“Adoptions happen every day. Kids grow up and never know their biological family yet inherit from their adoptive parents.”

“Whatever it is, it’s something I’ll need to accept, one way or another.” She leaned in and kissed his mouth. “See you tonight.”

He reached for the door handle. “Do I need to bring anything?”

She smiled, patted his cheek. “Not a thing. I’m even taking care of dessert. Although I wouldn’t object if you brought an extra carton of that dreamy orange blossom custard as Plan B. That is if you have any left at the end of the day. Judging by its creamy texture with just a hint of sweetness, enough citrus tartness to give it a slight kick, and its spicy full-bodied floral finish, I’d say you have a winner.”

“I like your review, but I doubt I’ll sell eleven gallons in one day. It’s never happened before.”

“You never know. When word gets out, the good people of Pelican Pointe might need their orange blossom fix.”

“Nah. Mondays are always slow.”

Although her expertise was in graphics design, Rowan knew a thing or two about marketing and PR. She sent out texts to the people she’d interacted with since arriving back in town. While only a handful—a total of four—she felt confident that by getting the word out through Lilly, Kinsey, Naomi, and Eastlyn, they would see to it that everyone in town knew Vanilla Bean had launched a brand-new flavor.

She didn’t stop there.

While shopping at Murphy’s, she decided everyone needed a reminder that Daniel now offered a new flavor. She hinted to the owner that he should carry the entire line of Daniel’s product. After all, his ice cream was the only local brand made fresh right here in town.

“I’ve already talked to Daniel about it,” Murphy informed her. “If we sell the ice cream in here, he wasn’t sure if anyone would walk through the door of the store.”

“But it’s ice cream,” Rowan admonished. “Who doesn’t like the convenience of walking in here just before closing and being able to pick up a carton of mudslide swirling in peanut butter and caramel for that late-night binge after a breakup? It's better to stock up beforehand when it’s within easy reach of your own freezer. After all, what happens if the shoe drops—the one you’ve been expecting for three months—and Vanilla Bean Machine isn’t open? That seems easy enough. You open your freezer, reach in and grab your favorite go-to flavor you’ve had on hand for just this occasion—a jerk has just broken your heart. If it were me, I’d stock up on orange blossom and chocolate.”

“Ice cream is standard fare for those moments,” Murphy muttered with a nod, attempting to agree. “But ice cream’s not just for women, you know? Men binge, too, when they’re stressed. It’s the ice cream lover in all of us.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Rowan cooed. “Of course men eat ice cream when they’re getting over the shock. A breakup is a breakup. Research shows they occur most often between nine p.m. and two a.m. Did you know that? What stores around here are open at that time of night?”

“I see your point. But here’s something to consider. Wouldn’t Daniel need a name change to go really all-in on production to sell in stores? As he pointed out himself, you can’t put Vanilla Bean Machine on a carton without people expecting every flavor to be vanilla, right?”

“Good point,” Rowan noted with a frown. “The carton really needs Daniel’s name on it, doesn’t it? Sort of like Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. I can see it now Daniel’s Deliciousness.”

“Not bad. He should hire you as a spokesperson. Run that clever name by him and see what happens.”

Rowan’s mouth twisted to one side. Why had she gone and opened her fat trap? “You know, my initial response was to let people know about the orange blossom flavor today. Maybe I should butt out and let Daniel manage his own business affairs.”

“You were just looking out for his best interests.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t think it through.” She shifted her focus. “I’m here to pick up groceries for supper, specifically a pot roast. I need your tenderest cut of meat.”

“Served with fingerling potatoes and baby carrots?”

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